Chambers of the Heart
by PerilaxisTheEye
Summary: A repost from an old account I can no longer access. The story of Trevor (my OC), and his journey from the beginings of his un-life through his adventures with Jump City's heroes the Teen Titans. Darkness desends, but for those already living in the shadows fighting against it is second nature. Strive toward sunrise ye dwellers of the dark.
1. Prolouge

Prologue

I lost my password for my last account so here I am, again. Hopefully I won't lose this one.

Some things you'll need to know. I am not an expert on the lore of Teen Titans. I also intend to add multiple original characters, some will stick around, others won't. this story is AU and focuses almost exclusivly on the thoughts, perceptions, and actions of my characters. If you don't like this story something in it or how things happened within it, thats just too bad. i dont care.

PerilaxisTheEye does not own Teen Titans and makes no financial gain from the free publication of this story on the fanfiction website. In other words I don't own anything and I'm not making any money for doing this.

This story is a work of complete fiction any similarities between those viewed here and those real people living or dead and/or any of the situations therein are completely coincidental. Except of course for the ones that aren't but they have been used with the permissions needed to make them legal.

You will I'm sure notice that there has been a bump up in the rating from T it is now M. What this does is more or less making sure I can get away with just about whatever I want. So expect liberal helpings of the following: swearing, blood, gore, gratuitous violence, abuse of the colors blue, green, red, and yellow, gratuitous violence towards mimes, clowns, an elephant, three mice, and a talking cat. Also as a fair warning to everyone here I have really only rewritten a chapter or two so far I have no idea yet where every twist in the road will take us and there may yet be some curves I cannot see so there may very well be things that are wholly unsavory and downright wrong, there may be things that fly head first against every moral or ethic we as human beings have. You have been duly warned and any reviews I receive to the effect that you have not and that you have a problem with something I have written will be deleted and ignored for the garbage it is.

* * *

Darkness. So many are afraid of it, considering night to be the home of phantoms and monsters. Its shadowy pall hides many secrets obscures many truths. It has been my home and my safe haven for nigh a millennia. My name is Markus and I am 845 years old though I look to be in my late twenties. How is that possible you might ask, well the answer is quite simple. I am a vampire. I've forgotten when exactly I was turned, or how old I was. It didn't matter so much back then, how old you were, I was old enough to push a plow and hold a sword, old enough to make a wage and own some land, old enough to take a wife and father children though I never did those. Now, oh now, now I'm dying. It is slow, I have enough time to sort out my affairs and give my new fledgling what he needs to survive. But never the less I am surely passing on from this world. You'd think I suspect that gunshots would be something I could shrug off, and under any kind of normal circumstances you would assuredly be right. This however is far from normal circumstances. Tonight I went hunting, as it were; I had gone without for sometime the tension in my neighborhood was running high, a veritable powder keg really. The local gang and I use that term loosely for compared to most there was hardly anything gang like about them, were in a dispute over territory with a rival group. Now my local gang was the pride of the neighborhood, straight laced, clean cut, polite, helpful, and they loved their home more than anything else. They protected the community, picked up trash, washed away graffiti and encouraged all the young ones to stay in school and eat their vegetables. There was one though that really stood out as special, Trevor. Trevor was an orphan, alone with nothing he found his way here. The boys took him in, cleaned him up and got him enrolled in the local school and Trevor flourished under the care of the community. We learned after a time that his father was a drunk, and a mean one at that. He would constantly hit Trevor's mother, but Trevor himself seemed to have some kind of protection never once was he physically abused. Then one night his father didn't come home. For days no word came, and then suddenly he was at their door drunk and out of his mind with rage. That night the house burnt to the ground. Trevor was the only one to survive the fire, and the only thing he had left was his Grandfather's ring.

Back to tonight, I was out hunting when the powder keg quite literally exploded. A bomb had been planted in the local pharmacy everything burned. That's when the shots started. The rival gang was out in full force with a range of high powered semi-automatic pistols. Our boys were caught completely unaware. Fire and smoke filled the air, chunks of concrete and broken glass blocked the roads and sidewalks, and the noise, loud and uproarious, echoed the gun fire and screams. Everyone was gunned down and left for dead. I have no Idea how many survived. The blood was in so much and so thick was the smell of fear that I, who had not been tempted in a century, nearly drank everyone I could find dry. The rest was a bit of a blur, I remember pain white hot and searing and then a cold sort of seeped into my bones. Until I found Trevor. He was wounded badly, if he lived he would never walk again and his sight would be impaired if he could see. Something inside of me that I had thought long dead screamed at me to save him. A long forgotten shred of humanity would not let me turn away from him. I took him into my closet safe house and it was here, that I knowing full well that I could not survive it, turned him.

I wonder how it is he'll turn out when he comes out of the fever dreams. I wonder how many of my traits he will inherit and what will develop on its own. I have left but a few hours, a day at most, and I think I should very much like to see a final sunrise, but for right now I am content to wait. I have been given one last glimpse into the future. A unique little ability of mine that has saved me on many occasions, I often wonder what the others of my kind do without it. This last vision is one of Trevor's future. The first and last time I'll have a premonition centering on someone other than myself. As such I have no way of telling whether this will happen tomorrow or if it will take centuries to come to pass but I see it will happen even if he tries to avoid it.

Trevor is standing out in a desert. The sun is rising or setting behind him. He stands tall; leading a great company of people, to his right stands a man, one of great skill with many blades, to his left a young woman, one of a great and powerful darkness. Before them lays a challenge, one that could destroy the very existence of humanity. Its exact nature and purpose I cannot discern, nor can I see whether Trevor shall be able to overcome it.

Trevor is waking now I will pass on what he will need and then I shall go to see the sun….

* * *

Well there's a prologue for you. Next time we will meet a few new faces and discover the first test young Trevor will have to face on his way to that final vision of Markus'.

Oh one last thing. Originally I was working on this story with help from one DC_Desperado, and now I thank for his permission to continue without him and for allowing me to continue using a few of his characters and ideas. TTFN.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

Jump City was in a somber mood. Throughout the city churches, mosqs, synagogs, and evangelical channels held memorials. Fifteen years had passed since the night of the brutal and bloody gang war. Everyone was out and in their mourner's garments. Along the main street through town were lined thousands of candles, each bearing the name of someone whom had died during the massacre. Gathered around the lamps that were not yet lit stood priests and ministers, leaders of all faiths lead the prayers for those who had passed on. It even seemed like an uneasy truce had been called between those who upheld and defended the law and those who broke it. Much of the Hive school students were there and while the town's local team of heroes the Teen Titans had acknowledged their presence, they made no move to stop their enemies from being there. Eventually as the sun began to set the people gathered in front of City Hall, it was there that the mayor would be speaking to end the day's events. Slowly and with purpose he strode forward to the podium, and completely unlike every time before when he took the stage no one cheered. The mayor knew that he was being judged. Judged on this day that marked the first night of the three day war that had ended countless lives, and also the day that ended the largest set of reconstruction projects the city had ever undertaken. Before getting to the podium he gave one last prayer and took a deep breath.

"People of Jump," he began, addressing the crowd that had gathered, "Fifteen years ago today, started the single greatest tragedy that we have had to overcome. On that night and the two nights following we lost so much, homes, businesses, and livelihoods. More important, however, are those lives lost in the fires and gun fights, more important and more numerous. Many of us lost friends, many more lost family, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, husbands and wi.." the mayor let out a few choked sobs as he continued, "Wives, sons and daughters…." He was quiet for a time trailing off with a glassy and sorrowful look in his eye as though it were only now that he truly understood that his family had been taken from him. When he had calmed he continued.

"We have endured; endured the fear of that night, the sadness of our loss, and the long road to recovery. I look with a heavy heart out at my city, knowing how many faces I will be missing forever. Yet I am full of pride too. Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of that night that cost us so much, but look around. Instead of crawling in a hole, we stood. We took back the city from those that sought to control us, we rebuilt our homes and our lives. We lived on. The scars now have been covered here, the neighborhoods rebuilt, but they are not gone, not completely. They have healed, in spite of the hardships, they have healed. So let this day, this day that remains so painful a reminder of what has happened to us, let it serve as a message to all that would harm us, that Jump City will overcome. That we will live on, that we will heal and rebuild, and that together, we are stronger than we were, stronger than they are." Here the rest of what he had to say was drowned out by the applause, and it seemed like there was a little less weight on the shoulders of the citizens.

* * *

Later that night the streets were deserted. The candles along Main Street were all lit, their bright flames flickering in the light night wind and reflecting off the windows of the buildings behind them. It was so late that the candles were the only lights along the road, the streetlamps having switched off at one o'clock. There was a single man walking up the road, dressed in well worn denim jeans and a black zip-up hoodie. With him he carried a large bundle of flowers white lilies being the most numerous. As he passed certain candles he stopped, bent down, and left a single flower nearby. He came upon one the name, Markus Evansson, here he spat at the ground before it before laying a flower here as well, saying as he did so,

"Thank you, for saving my life. You old son of a bitch." He moved on walking briskly. Again he came to a stop by a candle. It was plain having no pictures or flowers near it. Etched into its base was the name he had been searching for, Trevor Flates. He sat down before it and laid a sprig of holly and a red lily next to it. He sat there quietly staring at the candle's flame for a long moment before speaking.

"Hello there, Trevor, it has been fifteen years since you died and I was born from the ashes. The last of our brothers passed away, Johnny, that cancer finally got to him. I'm alone now. The other leeches know about our unique traits and their jealousy makes them all but impossible to deal with. I wonder sometimes if this life is worth it, but you already know that, don't you." Sighing, the man made to leave. "The scars that marked this city have finally been covered up. and with it nothing is left here for Trevor Flates. Nothing but painful memories lay behind, nothing but lonely uncertainty lay before. What am I supposed to do now, Old Man?" Then he was gone.

* * *

The same man from the candle lit street was now walking down another, this one equally deserted but far darker, having niether lamps or candles to drive back the darkness. Still he walked on unhindered by the stifling shadows. Suddenly he was startled out of his thoughts by a strange noise, louder than thunder, screaming down from an alley way. Curious he chased the noise to its source, a strange metal canister, it looked big enough to fit an adult human and appeared to be about to open.

"The fu..." The man started only to stop a moment later when the door shot of its attachments straight toward him. Now for a human it was easily to fast to avoid and to heavy to be caught, for a human it would have landed them into a hospital or a morgue. For the amatuer investigator, who was not human, it was more difficult to chose between the two than it was to execute the action. In this case he chose to avoid the projectile moving to the side of the alley quickly. "Whoa! What the hell made that...oh." a sword blade appeared at his throat, "I guess that would be you huh? So... my name is Trevor, and I'd really appreciate not being decapitated right now."

Slowly looking behind him he finds a man that seemingly jumped straight out of fuedal Japan. Dark hair tied in a bun and wearing a loose fitting kimono style top and hakama pants and the sheath to the sword that was resting against Trevor's neck, stood another man. Being half a head shorter than his hostage made him appear no less intimidating.

"Whether you lose your head will depend on how you answer my next question..."

* * *

A/N: and cut. Heres the first chapter, with a few updates toward the end there. next chapter to be hopefully out soon.


End file.
